The Damage
by LunaRowena
Summary: She doesn't want to hurt him, she just doesn't want to be hurt by him. He's too busy running from himself.


AN: And so concludes the loosely connected trilogy of "Learned it From the Best," "Forgiveness," and now "The Damage." Originally when I planned this, this one was going to end on a happier note, and then I realized The Eleventh Doctor is much too busy running forward, away from his past, to look back.

* * *

The phone had been ringing intermediately for weeks. At one point, Clara had picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Is the Doctor there?"

"He's a bit busy at the moment– orange-space-sheep-things in the library– can I take a message?"

"Just tell him I called and to pick up the damn phone next time."

When she told him about this, he looked grave. "Don't pick up the phone, Clara."

"Obviously, she's trying very hard to reach you–"

"Sometimes I don't want to be reached."

"But–"

"There are things in my past I–" He trailed off. "Just leave it be. It'll stop. It always does. Now!" He spun around. "Where do you want to go? Metrebelis III? I do love Metrebelis III." He threw the switch.

Of course they didn't actually make it to Metrebilis III, and two overthrown dictatorships and a halted alien invasion later, the phone had stopped ringing.

Now it was the psychic paper.

The Doctor was under the TARDIS console supposedly fixing it again. "Clara?" She couldn't see his face through all the wires. "Can you get that? It's in my right pocket. I can't let go of this now or the internal combustion will get cross linked."

She fished it out of his jacket pocket and flipped through it. "'Dear Doctor: I'm getting married next week. To Jack Harkness. Thought you should know. –Dorothy.'"

Something sparked under the console. "Oh! Well, I, if they're happy– Put that in the calender."

"Really?"

"I never miss a wedding. I love weddings. Especially the little figures on top of the cake."

As Clara walked over to the data entry (she wasn't entirely sure how the calender planning worked, considering it could be any day ever), she flipped through the rest of the booklet absentmindedly. Psychic remnants jumped out at her.

_Doctor, we need to talk._

_ Professor._

_ Stop avoiding me._

_ TALK TO ME._

"Doctor-"

There was a loud bang from the console and the Doctor jumped up. "Haha! Now, where were we? Right! Constantinople!"

It was three weeks later– Clara's time– and the TARDIS was misbehaving again. This was nothing new, but the Doctor seemed especially angry this time.

"No, stop it!" The engines whined and the lights cut out. "I don't want to go there!" The TARDIS gave a lurch, knocking both of them off of their feet. "You're just a stupid machine, you can't tell me where to go." Another lurch. "Sorry, Dear." He pulled himself somewhat vertical with the help of the railing. "But I don't need to go there!" He was now sent tumbling to the other side of the room. "I really don't and I would like you to stop interfering!" The TARDIS groaned and materialized with a thud.

He scrambled to his feet and ran over to the console.

Clara brushed herself off and ran over to him. "What is it?"

He was punching buttons. "She's trying to stick her nose into my business again. But it's not going to work!" he yelled at the ceiling.

The console started smoking in response.

Clara coughed.

"Fine! Fine! Have it your way! I'm going outside, see? Clara, grab an umbrella." He was already stalking out the TARDIS doors.

Clara grabbed a bright red umbrella and hurried after him.

"Doctor," she caught his sleeve. "Are we in danger?" Outside, rain fell on a deserted street. It was a dark night with the clouds blocking out the moon. It didn't seem dangerous, but Clara had learned already it was impossible to judge by appearances. And the Doctor seemed to find danger just by existing.

"Danger? Depends on how mad she is and if she's carrying any Nitro-9. Now come on!"

"What?"

He stepped out into the rain. Clara followed with the umbrella. She was too short to hold it over the both of them, but he didn't appear to care. He stood in the rain looking at a woman in a blue overcoat on the sidewalk. "Dorothy McShane! How are you? Waiting for a cab? It's been a while. What have you been up to? Awesome stuff? We've just been bouncing around the galaxy, you know, saving planets, keeping history on track, all that. We went to your wedding, that was nice, didn't we Clara?" He was trying too hard to be chipper.

"No we didn't."

"Last Tuesday."

"Doctor, they weren't even humanoid!"

"Weren't they? I thought she was dressed a little funny, but I wasn't going to say anything."

Dorothy wasn't smiling, but it almost seemed she was trying hard not to. "You did tell me once that you never missed a wedding. Apparently it's true for people you don't know."

"I got you a nice vase. Well, did get."

Dorothy's eyes were searching the Doctor's face for... something, Clara didn't know what. Recognition, acknowledgement, someone else? "I sent that message two years ago, Doctor. I'd given up expecting to hear from you by now. And no, there was no wedding, so you don't have to feel bad."

"It was broken off?" He looked taken aback.

"No, as in, I lied. As I said: you told me once you never miss a wedding."

He opened his mouth to say something– to reprimand her?– but closed it again and just rubbed his hands together."Well, at least it's not Jack. I mean, if you were happy, then, but-"

"I'll remember that," she said dryly.

"Actually, he's not that bad in committed relationships." He spun around and pointed. "Still not good for you! But I can't fault him for being monogamous. When he wants to be. Unlike my wife! But sometimes she's dead, and sometimes we're not married so it's," he waved his had in the air, "–complicated." His hand fell limp by his side. "Though I think she's properly gone now." There was a long pause before he clapped his hands. "Did I tell you I accidentally married Marilyn Monroe once? And Elizabeth the First. And the time I accidentally married Tegan." He was just rambling now.

"I met her." All traces of humor, repressed or otherwise, had been eradicated.

"Tegan? She is on Earth in this time period–"

"No, River." Dorothy wasn't much taller than Clara, but her presence and her anger took up much more space. "She was nice enough to let me know you didn't die in the Time War. I suppose you just couldn't be bothered?"

The smiles were gone now. He paced back and forth."Last time I met you, you punched me in the face. I took that as a sign I was unwelcome."

"I thought you were dead!" The shout echoed down the empty, wet pavestones.

The rain fell. Clara wondered if she should be here for this conversation. It might be better to give them privacy. She didn't move.

The Doctor sighed and leaned up against the side of the TARDIS. Despite having the body of a young man, sometimes, such as now, Clara was struck with the impression of incredible, incredible age. "In some ways I am. And in others I am unfortunately not."

"Don't say that," Dorothy whispered.

"I'm getting old. I'm over a thousand now."

"You were over a thousand in your eighth body."

There was a slight twitch of a smile. "Always keeping me honest."

There was only the sound of the rain on the street. Clara still didn't move.

"So we're the last ones left." Dorothy moved over to lean against the TARDIS next to him.

"Less history to drag us down, eh?"

"I didn't want to believe it," she muttered, her hands shoved low in her pockets.

His head fell back against the side of the TARDIS. "Last of the Time Lords."

"I'm too Time Lord to be human, and too human to be Time Lord. Just a freak of nature."

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I never should have let that happen."

"You don't make all my decisions for me," she snapped. "I'm just sorry I never graduated the Academy. Although it was God-awful boring. But I wanted so much for you to be proud of me for something. To prove that I was worth something."

"You don't have to prove anything to me. You never have."

"To prove it to myself, then."

"Dorothy McShane." He stood and took her face in his hands. "You are good enough and you always have been. You don't need me for that. And I am never more proud of you than when you do great things in your life without me."

She grabbed onto his wrist with her hand. "You think I'll ever not want you in my life?"

He stroked her hair. "You all outgrow me in the end. Even if you don't notice it. I'm a rebellious teenager that's never stopped. It's fun for a while but I'm not good for you. I just leave pain and destruction in my wake and it's catching up with me. As a father figure, I'm not a good one." He stepped back and spread his arms wide. "But look at you! You're a determined, young woman doing fantastic things for the universe. You. Let me be a fond memory in your life, but don't let me block out your light."

She gave a mirthless laugh and stepped back. "You're telling me exactly what I need to hear."

"That doesn't mean I don't mean it."

"I never know." Water streamed down her face and Clara couldn't tell if it was rain or tears. "Professor?"

He gave a small, half smile. "Ace?"

"I'm going to die whether you're here or not. Avoiding it isn't going to stop it. So I'd rather you'd stop back and look in once and a while."

The only acknowledgement from the Doctor was him stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"At least don't forget me, yeah?"

"Ace, I don't think you're going to let me."

He looked slightly startled as she rushed forward to hug him, as if he was expecting to be hit. He quickly hugged her back and then let go. She pulled away sharply and hugged herself with her arms, looking down at the sidewalk instead of at him.

"It looks like there's a cab there now," said Clara. Its headlights illuminated the rain from the background of the darkened street.

"I guess that's my cue." Still, they stood. "Goodbye. Doctor."

He said nothing, just watched her walk away and then turned back through the TARDIS doors.

Clara followed the Doctor back into the TARDIS. "Doctor?" He turned to look at her. "She used to travel with you, didn't she?" She took his silence as acknowledgement. "Did you mean what you said to her? About you being bad for us?"

"Oh, Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara." He walked back and patted her on the cheek. "As she said: I told her what she needed to hear. To live without the memory of me dragging her down. To push her away into her own life."

"So you did lie to her?"

"You could call it that." He was walking away again now, and gave her a weak smile before exiting through the door into the TARDIS interior. But the smile didn't fill his face and Clara was left alone, holding the dripping red umbrella, wondering which ones were the lies.


End file.
